Chapter 8
Quinn doesn't have a spare minute for the next three hours. First, Banoff. Then Campbell. Then 8,567 fucking pages of reports on Hassan and his motley crew of potential bombers.
By the time he steps into the hallway, he's running on fumes. Quinn pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and hits speed dial.
Max picks up on the second ring.
"Hey, I need a favor."
"Quinn! Nice to hear your voice, too. Glad you're still alive."
"Yeah, thanks," Quinn mutters.
"What's going on?"
"I need you to run a background check," Quinn says, getting straight to the point.
Max's voice shifts slightly. "A background check? Aren't you still in Berlin?"
"Yeah."
"Can't someone at the station do it for you?" Max asks, the sound of tapping keys in the background.
Quinn hesitates. "No."
Max picks up on it immediately. "Got it. Who am I digging up?"
"Lily Taylor."
Max makes a sound that might've been a sigh. "Lily Taylor? That's gonna be a lot to sift through."
"She's a lawyer. Lives in Washington. Works for YouGo."
"Okay, that helps. How quickly do you need it?"
"As fast as you can," Quinn says. "Everything you can get on her."
"Got it," Max replies without hesitation. "Shouldn't take too long."
"Thanks. I owe you one."
"Yeah, well, don't get yourself killed before I can collect," Max chuckles, but it's not quite as lighthearted as it should be. "I'll let you know when I've got something."
Quinn hangs up, staring at the phone for a moment. He knows Max will come through. He just has to hope the information won't take too long to surface.
With one last glance at his watch, he heads back to the lab.